


A Day In the Life

by morninghush



Series: Sheriarty 30 Days Challenge [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sheriarty - Freeform, Sheriarty 30 Days Challenge, a bit angsty, jimlock, they can't be together but they can't be apart, torturous love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 19:43:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7477383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morninghush/pseuds/morninghush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sheriarty 30 Days Challenge - Day 1</p>
    </blockquote>





	A Day In the Life

**Author's Note:**

> Sheriarty 30 Days Challenge - Day 1

From the moment Sherlock closed the door to the flat behind him, he knew Jim was already there. The atmosphere vibrated, alive with some energy that he couldn’t explain. Sherlock glanced at his watch, and nodded contently when he found it was two only minutes past midnight. A rare, genuine smile pulled at his lips, his heartrate accelerating in anticipation as he pulled off his coat and stepped into the living room.

Sherlock found Jim lounging in one of the plush chairs by the fireplace. The very image of ease; his fingers curled around a glass of whiskey placed on the armrest, face smooth and expressionless. Sherlock noticed Jim’s glass was almost empty, and felt sorely in need of some liquid courage himself.

The men eyed oneanother in silence for a few moments, taking each other in, as if none of them could quite believe what they were seeing. Not exactly the exorbitant greeting of long lost lovers, Sherlock mused as he broke the spell, taking a tentative step towards the chair. Jim moved too, turning to put his drink down on the side table, before he again fixed his gaze on Sherlock’s face.

In spite of their quiet greeting, long, lost lovers was an ample description for the two of them. A full year, to the date, had passed since they were last alone together. That was their agreement. One day, and one day only, spent together every year. The fact that these days were so far between made them all the more precious when they finally arrived, but it also made finding their bearings again torturously nerve-racking. 

“Long time, no see, stranger.” Jim got to his feet in his catlike, fluid manner. In spite of his attempt at a flirty tone, his voice quivered slightly. The suppressed emotion Sherlock read in his eyes matched his own inner turmoil.

Seconds passed as Sherlock let Jim close the distance between them. “How’ve you… been?” Sherlock asked quietly. Time was too precious to waste on empty phrases. All the things he’d wanted to say, that he’d planned, things he’d been meaning to tell Jim when they met again, were suddenly impossible to recall.

Jim had stopped, leaving some space between them still. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers, he smiled a little, as if he was considering Sherlock’s question. “Oh, you know. Fine. Same old. And you?” he shrugged.

Sherlock was overcome by how close Jim was, he couldn’t think clearly. Not when those eyes he’d been longing to look into glowed so intensely in the dim light. Not when that musical voice he could never do justice when he imagined it floated softly towards him, barely above a whisper.

Deciding they had spent enough time on trivialities, Sherlock didn’t bother replying, just pulled Jim to him and pressed their lips together in a kiss. It started out as gentle, almost timid brushes of lips, before hunger flared in them both. Suddenly Sherlock’s consciousness consisted of nothing more than heavy breaths, hot skin under his fingers and the inexplicable scent that was Jim.

They didn’t even break apart when they stumbled to the bedroom, the pain of separation for mere seconds too much to bear. With shaky hands they ripped at each other’s clothes, giggling breathlessly as buttons strained and zippers resisted. Finally, their intertwined bodies fell down onto what Sherlock always thought of as their bed, even as rarely as they occupied it together.

There was no time for languid, slow lovemaking; it was about passion and heat, desperate need and reunion all at once. Spurred on by desire withheld for so long, Sherlock covered every inch of Jim’s trembling body with heavy kisses and caresses. Even in the heat of urgent need, his hands moved as delicately as if it was his precious violin he was handling. When Jim couldn’t bear the sweet torture anymore, he pulled Sherlock closer, wrapping his legs around his waist, locking their bodies in the firm embrace they had both been yearning for during their separation.

When Jim came, he arched his back off the bed, his fingers gripping around Sherlock’s neck, moaning his name over and over again like a prayer. The intensity of Jim’s orgasm tipped Sherlock over the edge as well, and he let himself be swallowed by the intense sensations, blinded by that white light that erased everything for a few moments. As his body relaxed again, Jim’s name formed on Sherlock’s lips. He whispered it against the crook of Jim’s neck, fingers brushing reverently over the spot where his pulse thrummed violently under soft skin.

The room grew silent again as their ragged breathing slowed down. Sherlock propped himself up on an elbow, taking in the sight of Jim’s relaxed body in stunned silence; his unguarded, almost angelic face, tinged with a pink hue, eyelashes resting on soft skin, hair out of place, an array of sweaty strands sticking to his forehead. Sherlock could discern just one or two silver strands intermingled with the dark ones, and the discovery made his chest ache acutely. To rid himself of the sense of loss that attacked him, he turned his attention to tracing his index finger across a pale, protruding collarbone. Jim’s eyelids fluttered open, and he directed that infuriatingly derailing gaze to Sherlock’s face.

“I’ve missed you,” Sherlock whispered as their eyes met. It was all he could bring himself to say. His heart skipped a beat at the expression of wonder that appeared on Jim’s face.

“I’ve missed you too, darling,” Jim sighed, a smile dawning. Time stood still for a few moments as Sherlock’s fingers gently mapped out the surface of Jim’s chest, skin turning into goose bumps under his touch. Sherlock could have killed for Jim in that moment, a flash on insanity pulsed through his entire being.

The loaded atmosphere around them throbbed with the need for something more to be said. None of them spoke, until Jim’s smile faded slowly into a grim expression. Sherlock braced himself for the words he knew were coming, words he dreaded to hear. “But not enough… You didn’t miss me enough, did you? It’s still not enough.” Jim’s voice was barely above a whisper, the raw vulnerability in it stabbing Sherlock like a knife to the gut.

“Jim… Please, don’t do this. We tried, remember? We tried, but we couldn’t make it work.” Sherlock needed the words to be as compelling as they possibly could be, and he tried desperately to remind himself why they were necessary. “We couldn’t make it work,” he repeated, not sure if it was Jim or himself he was most desperate to convince.

“It’s been years. We’ve both changed. It could work, this time around?” Jim’s gaze was fixed on a spot somewhere behind Sherlock’s shoulder now, staring at something unseen. Defeat laced his voice, but there was also a small trace of stubborn resistance. 

“Jim…” Sherlock breathed. The simple exclamation was enough to bring reality crashing down upon them again. Jim’s face crumpled, stiffening into a mask of stale resignation, giving Sherlock just a glimpse of the hardened self-restraint that had made him into the man he was today. Jim nodded his assent, the pain in his eyes gradually replaced by a flat, dead look. Instead of saying anything, Jim reached up to pull Sherlock back into another embrace, one of the few they would ever have. Sherlock came willingly, nuzzling against Jim’s neck.

“One day to share, then. A bittersweet taste of the life we can’t have. It’s better than nothing, I suppose. My apologies, getting greedy with old age,” Jim sighed, carding his fingers gently through Sherlock’s messy head of curls, again and again. Sherlock let him, saying nothing. There was nothing to be said. He wished he could give Jim what he wanted, what they both wanted, but he knew that any promise he could give would be empty. It would be broken and tainted soon enough. 

Wishing they could stay in this bed forever, Sherlock closed his eyes in appreciation of Jim’s gentle fingers, contemplating their arrangement. To indulge in each other one day every year. As long as they both wanted to, as long as they both needed each other. The fear of coming to an empty flat on the given date was always there, making the rush of elation from finding the other one waiting all the more powerful.

Many years had passed since they first met, but their need for each other was still tangible, the obsession was still unrelenting. Living their lives apart from each other was like the nagging, dull pain from a nearly healed wound. Sometimes the pain flared so intensely it was unbearable, usually after they had caught a glimpse of each other in passing; the times Jim made a narrow escape, the times Sherlock got too close in the height of his chase. Those fleeting moments made the hunger seem more poignant, had pain rippling through Sherlock’s body like physical wounds for weeks after.

One day wasn’t nearly enough to sate their hunger for each other, but being together was not an option. They had tried and failed. And tried and failed again. Like trying to push two magnets together, they had resisted. Like opposing forces, they had collided. This way they could contain the impact.

“I need a smoke,” Jim declared eventually, the first, frantic need calmed into something manageable. He rolled out of Sherlock’s embrace and threw on his boxers and T-shirt. After fetching his packet of cigarettes, he proceeded to the doors opening out into the crisp and chilly night air on the balcony. Sherlock slowly got dressed and followed him, anxious to have this first inevitable brush with reality over with. He found Jim leaning against the balcony railing, smoke drifting slowly into the air, his head tilted up towards the immense expanse of stars glittering above them.

“Beautiful, aren’t they? Makes everything down here seem so mundane, so insignificant,” Jim mused in a low voice as Sherlock approached. Sherlock only hummed softly in agreement, always a bit scared when Jim’s voice took on that dreamy, detached quality. He never quite knew how to call Jim back from the edge, and had to settle for pressing his body firmly against his. It felt so natural it almost hurt. Wrapping one arm tightly around Jim’s waist, he stole his cigarette with his free hand. Sherlock inhaled deeply, letting that familiar feeling of lightness spread through his body.

Jim and cigarettes. This really was the one day that all bets were off. Sherlock exerted himself to commit every single moment to memory, to be able to bring it back later, for times when everything seemed black and hopeless. They stood together in silence, looking up at the stars. The knowledge they had this day was enough for a while.

“What do you want to do today?” Sherlock finally asked, Jim’s cigarette no more than a bud between his fingers now. Jim took one final drag and flicked it away, leaning back into Sherlock’s chest. The smell of Jim’s hair took him by surprise, more noticeable now that the cigarette was gone. Sherlock buried his face against the top of his head, imagining what it would be like to be able to do that every day. The notion made his eyes start swimming, and he blinked away a few tears.

“What we always do, I guess. Spend the rest of the night talking. I want you to tell me everything you can’t share with anyone else. I want you to fuck me senseless while looking me in the eyes, knowing it will never be like that with anyone else.” There was a hard edge to Jim’s voice.

Sherlock tightened his embrace as Jim continued. “In the morning, I’ll make you breakfast. And you’ll complain I burnt the eggs, like you always do.” A small, strangled chuckle escaped Jim, and this time Sherlock’s tears were too many to blink away. They fell into Jim’s hair, one after the other.

“Then we could go for a walk somewhere. I’ll show you my latest… projects. All the things I could have created for you, all that we could have built together.” Jim drew a couple of deep breaths to calm himself before he went on. “I don’t know. I just want to be with you. Try to wrap a lifetime up into one day.”

Sherlock nodded. “That sounds perfect, Jim. It’s all I want. Just to spend every moment of it with you, the way it should have been, if…” He broke off, no idea how to put his jumbled thoughts into words.

Jim broke free from Sherlock’s embrace, turning around to look up at him. His eyes were wide and Sherlock felt he could see his own life reflected in them. “It’s not perfect, Sherlock. Not even close. But it’s all we’ve got. All we’ll ever have,” he mumbled and traced the tips of his fingers down the sides of Sherlock’s face, following their journey with hungry eyes.

The cruel truth of Jim’s words struck Sherlock like a physical blow, no matter how well-known it was. He felt faint all of a sudden, Jim’s presence after so long apart almost too much to handle, the energy that flowed between them so intoxicating in its strength.

Slowly, Sherlock leaned down and hesitantly kissed those lips he’d been imagining so many times since they last saw each other. Jim kissed him back with the same overwhelmed restraint. Seconds could have been hours, could have been days, every single touch or brush of lips so essential to cherish that everything around them fell away. When they broke apart, Sherlock leaned his forehead against Jim’s.

“You’re right, Jim. It’s what we’ve got.” Pulling gently on Jim’s hand, Sherlock steered him back inside. To the one place he’d ever call home. Home, even if he only spent a single day each year there. "Let’s make this day count, then.” 

Their fingers laced, and for one moment in time, for one day in their lives, two opposing, irreconcilable forces joined in perfect symmetry.


End file.
